


Just Visiting

by persephone622



Series: Actions Speak Louder [5]
Category: British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, but mostly just fluff, lots and lots of fluff, these two like to be fluffy, with the suggestion of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 13:36:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2193726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephone622/pseuds/persephone622
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remy takes a little trip.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Visiting

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I realize that that summary sucks. But I really can't give too much away. Okay? ;-)
> 
> Takes place five months after A Very Long Time. No warnings, just a lot of sweetness, as the tags suggest. I can't resist writing fluff for these two. They lend themselves to it very well. :-)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The man gave me a flirtatious smile as he slammed his stamp onto the page before passing my passport back to me. “Welcome to London, Miss Carlson,” he crooned.

“Thank you,” I muttered, rolling my eyes as I stepped past him and towards the doorway that would take me through to the lobby of Heathrow airport. I blinked at the sudden rush of light that overwhelmed me once I stepped through, immediately feeling like a fish out of water.

“Remy!”

I turned and met a familiar pair of hazel eyes, a pang of sadness rushing through me as Luke pushed his way through the crowd. But I smiled and waved. “Luke!”

He met me as I stepped past the barrier, wrapping his arms around me in a friendly hug. “I thought I was going to be late,” he said. “But they said the flight ran into some storms.”

I nodded. “Yeah, not the best thing to experience on my first trans-Atlantic flight,” I replied, my gaze sliding over his shoulder, searching.

“He’s at the studio,” Luke explained, catching the look. “Emergency reshoots.”

“Oh.” I deflated visibly, Luke shooting me a sympathetic smile as he draped an arm across my shoulders and herded me towards the baggage claim.

“He was beyond angry when he called me,” he stated. “Tried to get me to reschedule them before he asked me to come get you.”

“Really?” I asked, giving him a look that was equally hopeful and dubious.

“Yes, really,” he replied. “Remy, your visit is the only thing he’s talked about for nearly two months now. It’s a chore to get him to focus in meetings. Especially if you’re texting him.”

I ducked my head, grinning despite the chastisement. “Sorry,” I said.

“No, you’re not,” Luke countered, a smirk in his voice as he gave me a slight squeeze. “Now, come on. Let’s get your bags and get back to the flat. He shouldn’t be too much longer.”

London flew by and I stared out the window, only half seeing the city as my thoughts lingered on the man I had flown nearly 4000 miles to visit. It had been nearly five months since we’d admitted our feelings for each other. Five months since that night he’d walked in on me. Five excruciatingly long months.

We’d spent that week nearly inseparable, working around my duties during the day but the nights were spent completely wrapped up in each other. Just the memories sent my body heating and flushing and tingling for his touch. I shifted, my body pulsing with need, and glanced sideways at Luke, sending up a grateful prayer that his attention was on the road.

The car came to a stop in front of a relatively nondescript building sooner than I had anticipated, Luke’s elbow in my side nudging me gently out of my reverie. “Tom should be back any time,” he said, glancing at his phone before holding up a singly key. “This is for his flat: 6D. Go on up. The doorman knows you’re coming. I’ll grab your bags.”

“Luke, you don’t have to . . .” I trailed off at the look he gave me, acquiescing with a small smile and a gesture of surrender. “Tom was right, you can be scary.” He chuckled and shook his head as I leaned forward and gave him a fleeting peck on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“Go on, now,” he ordered, a hint of pink coloring his cheeks. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

I smirked, but obeyed, tumbling from the car and dashing straight for the elevator with a rushed greeting to the elderly man that let me inside. His knowing, gentle smile followed me into the steel car and then I was waiting the seemingly forever trip up to the sixth floor.

Everything had changed between Tom and I, yet everything was the same. We still called, texted like we had before. Our conversations still held the same depth, the same teasing quality that we had always had, but . . . with just that bit more. Three extra words at the end of a phone call, Skype conversations that were more . . . _interactive_. And those times when we simply needed to hear each other, see each other. It was those moments that I craved the most, knowing he missed me just as much as I missed him.

A soft ding heralded my arrival at the sixth floor, bringing me from my reverie with a slight jump before propelling me out of the car and down the hall. I stopped in front of the correct door, staring at it for a long moment, my nerve-endings tingling despite the fact that I knew it was empty on the other side, and slid the key into the lock.

The space was huge, more of a penthouse than a flat in reality, the living room, kitchen, and dining area combining in a gorgeous open-concept layout. One of the walls was just windows, the room reflecting the bright golden hues of London’s afternoon sun, another was all books, and I couldn’t stop the laughter that burst past my lips.

My gaze stayed fondly locked on the massive bookshelves, any thought of further exploration completely vanished from my mind. It was so very _Tom_ and knowing that brought another pang of sadness rushing through me as my fingers trailed gently over the spines. God, how I missed him.

“Such a lovely sight to come home to.” I jumped as warm air caressed my face and strong, lean arms slid around my waist, pulling me back against a very firm, very familiar chest.

I let my eyes flutter closed as his lips pressed gentle kisses along my jaw and down my neck. “Tom,” I breathed, shifting slightly to look at him. “I thought . . . your reshoots . . .”

“Done, thank God,” he said, turning me around to face him with gentle pressure on my waist. “I arrived just moments after you and Luke.” He grinned, the suggestive heat that blossomed in his eyes making me shiver. “And promptly sent him packing. Now I have you all to myself.” His expression softened slightly and he lifted a hand from my waist to tuck a clump of hair behind my ear before sliding his fingers down my cheek, his gaze memorizing my face. “I missed you . . .” Long fingers slid to cup my neck, Tom’s lips landing on mine as he pulled me close.

I melted against him with the contact, my arms immediately twining around his neck and my fingers burying themselves in his soft-as-silk curls. The affectionate kiss soon turned hungry, urgent, and the arm still around my waist tightened, a surprised but pleased gasp escaping me as he lifted me off my feet. “Mmmm,” I purred, nuzzling into his neck as he turned, my hold on him tightening as he started towards a hallway across the room. “Strong. I think I like this new role.” Tom chuckled and then groaned as I found that special spot where his neck met his shoulder, pulling the skin into my mouth with my teeth and sucking hard.

A breathless laugh pushed out of my lungs as he shoved me up against the nearest wall, my legs instantly wrapping around his waist. It was my turn to groan as he rocked against me, his arousal _extremely_ evident as he pressed against my core. “God, I’ve missed you, Remy,” he murmured, burying his face against my throat, his voice muffled against my skin. “So much.”

I shuddered as he latched onto my neck, nipping and sucking and leaving mark after mark. “I missed you, too,” I breathed, kissing his cheek before gently nipping at his earlobe.

Tom pulled back, the slightly regretful look on his face making me frown. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I had _things_ planned. I was going to make you dinner, wine and dine you like you deserve. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to pick you up. I’m sor— _mmhmmf_!”

My hands cupped his face, holding him to me as I pushed my lips to his, silencing him. A thrill shot through me when he sighed, physically melting against me. “Stop apologizing,” I muttered against his lips. I relaxed my legs on his waist and he took the cue, his hands firm but gentle as he helped me back onto my feet. His hands settled on my hips as I slid my hands around to his neck, teasing the curls there. “I understand. Hot shot actor.” He mirrored my smile, rolling his eyes. “But . . .” I gave him a mischievous look and pushed into him, his fingers digging into my skin as his hold tightened on my waist. “You’re here now. Can we get back to saying hello?”

Tom grinned, his eyes darkening with desire. “Absolutely,” he agreed, bending down to capture my lips in a slow, hard, demanding kiss. A kiss that dissolved when I suddenly gave a spectacular yawn.

“Oh,” I exclaimed, blinking up at him. “Sorry.”

He chuckled, a hand leaving my waist to stroke my cheek. “I guess hello is going to have to wait a bit,” he said.

“But I’m not actually tired,” I protested, yawning again. I tugged him close again and reached for his lips. “Tom.”

“Remy,” he tossed back, echoing the slight whine in my voice. “You _are_ tired. And the instant I put you into bed, you’ll feel it too. Jet lag, love.” He bent down and tucked an arm under my knees, swinging me up into his grasp.

“Thomas!” I latched onto his neck in surprise, giving him a look. “I can still walk.”

He met my gaze, the intense affection in his eyes making me inhale sharply. “I haven’t held you in five months, Remy,” he stated. “And I only have you for so long. I’m going to take every chance I can get.” He kicked open a door and stepped through, stopping to set me back down on the floor before moving towards a dresser. “Here.” A dark blue t-shirt dangled from his fingers. “You can wear this.”

I couldn’t help the smirk that slid across my face. “I did bring my own pajamas,” I said. “They’re in the other room. I think you’d like them much better.”

His breathing stuttered and his nostrils flared at my suggestive comment, and he took a deep breath. “I’m sure I will,” he agreed. He laughed as I yawned yet again, ignoring the dark look I gave him. “But, since I’m trying to get you to _sleep_ , I feel they will be counter-production.” He offered the shirt again. “Come on.”

I yanked the shirt from his hand, rolling my eyes good-naturedly, and stripped down to my underwear and bra before pulling it on. It was as if a switch had flipped and I suddenly felt exhaustion settle deep into my bones, my eyelids fluttering slightly. “There it is,” Tom murmured, reaching for my hand. “Come here.” He tugged gently and ushered me into the king-sized bed, tucking the blankets up to my shoulders before turning towards the door.

“Where are you going?” I asked, pushing up onto one arm.

He hesitated. “I thought I’d let you get some proper rest,” he answered.

I shook my head and sighed. “Tom, I came here to see _you_ ,” I replied. “To be with _you_. That includes sleeping.” I gave him a sleepy smile and held out my hand. “Please. Stay.”

Tom narrowed his eyes and made a low noise deep in his throat, moving back towards the bed while quickly shedding his jeans and shirt. “You know _exactly_ what that pleading tone does to me, don’t you?” he accused, crawling up beside me.

I adopted an innocent expression as he slid under the blankets, his arms immediately wrapping around me and tugging me to his chest. “I have no idea what you mean,” I said, batting my eyelashes.

“Mmhmm,” he hummed, disbelieving. I giggled softly and settled against him, snuggling into his chest and letting his scent and warmth wash over me, the rhythm of his heartbeat against my cheek lulling me closer towards sleep. His fingers stroked over my hair in a gentle motion and I felt his lips press against my head. “Best present ever,” he whispered.

I smiled and kissed the hollow of his throat, tipping my head back to meet his gaze. “Happy birthday, Tom.”


End file.
